You'll Remember
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: Two months. No names, no love notes. Nothing that can serve as evidence after the fact. All they have is each other. WK fic inspired by the song "You'll Remember" by Patty Griffin. Now complete.
1. September 17th, 1988

_September 17th, 1988_

She was starting to forget that night, he could tell. Three years could definitely heal the wound he inflicted that Thanksgiving. Breaking her heart like that. He was surprised she could ever smile at him again. The year following the night Grace kicked him out was no doubt the hardest time he had to endure. Maybe he spoke too soon. Grace was the only woman he had ever been in a serious relationship with, and he couldn't find a logical explanation for why he was no longer interested. So he gave her the only one he could think of.

He didn't really think it could be wrong.

Three years. In that time, he could have moved on, forgotten about everything, but once she came back into his life, Will knew that that would never happen. And instead of going out on his own, he spent three years trying to mend his relationship with Grace and waiting for some man to love him like he thought he could love them back. But when they didn't, Will didn't really feel anything. He wasn't hurt, he wasn't surprised. A part of him felt relief.

Even when Grace did spend time with him, Will knew that she was still hurting. She was distant, and lately she was becoming even more so. It pained him to think this way, but maybe what they needed was a little time apart. Being with her every day, although being the way he would choose to spend his days, wasn't necessarily helping their situation. They tiptoed around the reason they stopped talking in the first place, never sitting down to talk it out. And as much as he wanted to say something about it, he didn't want to destroy the progress, however small, they were making.

She was starting to forget that night. But he knew a part of her would never let it go.

Grace was silent tonight, staring blankly out the window of the café they had been to a thousand times before, nursing a cup of coffee, just going through the motions. Will watched her as the electric glow of the city made her shine, drowning in his attempts to make conversation, and knew that if he left, they could both clear their minds, they both could mature and when he returned, maybe they could finally touch upon all that they've been avoiding. Maybe they wouldn't be stuck anymore.

Maybe.

He could find a place to stay. A hotel in Greenwich Village, perhaps. Grace has never been to that part of the city, wouldn't think to look for him there, wouldn't know her way around. Three years away from Schenectady, and she was still pretty unfamiliar with the city, always relying on Will to guide her. He was always able to figure out his surroundings quickly.

No one would know him there. Since Grace never ventured out to that part of New York, Will never had either. He could be a completely different person. He could be the person he is supposed to be. Just take two months to sort things out. Come back refreshed, ready to handle whatever he needed to handle.

Grace looked at him for a moment, gave him a half-hearted smile. He had to do this soon, drop her off and go pack, maybe write her a little something so she doesn't worry. Not to let her know where he's going, exactly, just that he'd be back soon. Sure, she'd probably be upset at first, but give her a couple days, and she'll realize that it's for the best that he left for a little while.

He hadn't touched his coffee; he had too much on his mind, forgot it was even sitting in front of him. He returned her smile and broke the silence.

"You ready to go?"

Grace nodded, stood up and eased her way into the coat he held out for her. She had deluded herself for so long into thinking that their silence was a comfortable one, coming from a relationship where nothing needed to be said, but now she knew better. She had to do something, no matter how small, to let him know that she put everything behind her. It was all in the past; she didn't want it to ruin their friendship. He didn't see her watching him as he put on his coat. As he turned around, Grace folded him in her arms, some sort of sign that she still wants to be in this for the long haul. She still wanted to be his friend.

God, he wished she hadn't just done that. He didn't want anything to make it harder to leave her. But he had to do it. He had to.

And when he dropped Grace off, he dialed the phone.

"Yeah, hi. I was wondering if you happened to have a room available. I'm arriving tomorrow, hopefully. Yes, I know it's short notice, but anything will do. You do? Great. Will Truman. Thanks."

Everything in motion. It's for the best, he kept telling himself.

It has to be done.

* * *

Another year, another life, another chance to slip away from the grasp her mother seemed to have on her, even when she wasn't there. The woman had her transform into so many people in the sixteen years she had with her, helping her dig a hole so deep the only way to get out was to keep lying. A sick system, but it somehow worked for her. But she wasn't going to drag Karen with her. No, she got out as soon as she could, never looked back. She grew up the day they sat her down to tell her that her father died. She didn't need her mother anymore.

Greenwich Village. She never thought she would end up here. Then again, she never thought she would end up in half the places she landed in to try to make a home. Stan hated that she wouldn't move in with him; he had been trying to push her to do it for a year now. But if she had to be honest, the loft had a certain charm to it.

If she had to be honest, she wasn't sure she could live with him, anyway.

He was ready to pull her into a world she knew she would never be able to fit into. Power, wealth. People knowing exactly who you are, who you're connected to, and once they realize it, they cling to you. They'll pretend to be your friend so they can get what they want, but when it comes down to it, they are never truly there for you. There were more lies in Stan's world than there were when she was living with her mother. She just couldn't do it. But she could never tell him that. He expected her to conform to that. He loved her.

At least that's what she thought. He could be lying to her like everyone in his world was surely lying to him. She couldn't tell anymore. He was so sweet and humble when they first met, and she was so certain that he was different. He was real. But as he started showing his true colors, Karen wondered what exactly it was she had gotten herself into.

She wondered if it was worth it.

Stan was gone, left two weeks ago; he'd be gone for three months. Something about business deals in a few different places, she couldn't remember anymore. He had wanted her to go with him, keep him company. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't see more of his world, not yet, not when she isn't prepared for it. He called once in the two weeks he was gone; the call couldn't have lasted longer than three minutes. She wondered when it had gotten to that point, why she had been so oblivious to it.

She needed a change. And it wasn't going to happen laying around her apartment in the time that he was gone. She was free, didn't have to worry about where he was, if he was going to find out where she had been, what she was doing. He was in another country, watching his business grow, raking in more cash and getting more involved with the society he had come to know all too well. She didn't want to be a part of it, and she got her wish, at least for now.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she was going to get up, do something, stop waiting for something that won't come along unless she takes action. Because she knew if she kept going the way she was, when Stan would get back she would be right where he left her. She needed to feel alive; she needed to see what she was missing out on.

She needed to see if Stan was actually worth it.

Karen climbed into bed, draped the sheets around her. Watched as the headlights from the street shone on the walls, running across them, a frenzy. They were going somewhere, and she only hoped that she would be too.

She closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, to shut her mind off. Already she was doubting herself. If she had been going along with Stan for this long, what's a little longer? What would it hurt? No. It's for the best, she thought, trying to reassure herself.

It has to be done.


	2. September 18th, 1988

_September 18th, 1988_

_Grace,_

_Trust me when I say that I had to do this, if not for me, then for us. We haven't even talked about what happened between us, and we're not going to get back to the way things were until we do that. I'm hoping this time apart will help us put everything in perspective. Maybe once I get back (and I will come home) we'll be able to not only bring it up, but we'll be able to talk it out and be civil about it. Surely you're hurting right now, and to tell you the truth, I am too, but this has to be done. It will get better from here. I love you._

_Will_

He left it on his desk, a place she was certain to find it. He knew Grace. As soon as she realized he wasn't going to call, she would be knocking on his door in a heartbeat. And as soon as she realized he wasn't going to answer the door, she would pull the key he made for her out of her pocket and open the door, looking all over his place, not fully believing that he wasn't there. That's when she'll find it, that small slip of paper with some half-hearted explanation about how he wasn't going to be there to run around in circles tonight. He didn't know what to say to her, just wrote down the first thing that came to mind and set it aside. Picked up his coat and his suitcase and locked the door behind him.

His hotel room was more than he could have imagined—spacious living area, king-sized bed—and it almost made him wish he were staying longer. But he knew that after two months, he would be more than ready to see Grace again. Will was already missing her, wondering where she was, if she had gotten his note.

If she could ever forgive him.

Will watched the sunset out on the balcony, looked down below at the traffic on the street, couples on the sidewalk hand in hand. He needed to get up. This wasn't how he was supposed to be spending his time here, watching other people live their lives when he was supposed to be living his. Go out, meet someone, don't you see what you're missing?

There was no way he could ever fit into this crowd. Even walking the streets looking for a place to go, he knew he stuck out. Everyone seemed to him as though they had the majority of their lives figured out. At least they had a place to go, and they knew how to get there. He couldn't even do that.

Will wandered the streets until he was tired of walking them. Too much time to himself; it made him think of Grace, made him start to regret leaving. He needed to find a place to take his mind off of things, help him get on the right track. He made his way inside the first place he came across, a bar. Well, he thought, it's a start. At least he could try conversing with a few strangers, see where it gets him.

He found a seat next to a woman and attempted to order, couldn't really get the bartender's attention. Looked around the bar and immediately decided that this was a bad idea.

Until the woman sitting next to him looked into his eyes.

* * *

Freedom. She finally had what she wanted, no worries about Stan, if only for a short time. And instead of enjoying herself, she ended up in a bar she hated. She never knew anyone who stepped foot in the place, and their choice of music blaring through the speakers was less than great to say the least. But the booze didn't cost much, and at this point, that was all she cared about. She watched as people paired up, no doubt hoping for something to come out of it. Everyone with a partner, not afraid to take a leap, like she could never do. Maybe she should just go. Pay for her drink and walk out the door. It seemed to be the logical thing to do.

Then again…

As soon as she started to eye the exit, she caught a glimpse of him. Had to be new to this part of the city; it was in the way he acted, the way he took in his surroundings. He almost seemed like a child, how his head spun around to capture every inch of the room in his mind. In a way, it was charming, to find someone who hasn't seen it all. The kind of charm she was sure Stan once had years before she ever came into the picture. She had to admit, a part of her wanted him to make his way over to her. There was an empty seat next to her; he could see it and take advantage.

Who was she kidding? She knew what was likely to happen; after getting a good look at the place, he would decide it's not for him, he'll try someplace else. Someplace a little friendlier, a little calmer to spend the night before going back to wherever he was staying. She couldn't blame him; she would have done the exact same thing.

And instead of waiting to see the move he would make, she turned her back on him.

Karen ran a finger around the rim of her glass, let out a sigh. Maybe she should have gone with Stan, traveled a little, seen the sights while he was off hammering out contracts. What she opted for certainly wasn't giving her much satisfaction. Maybe he was right in pushing her to move in. They both knew that sooner or later, she would succumb to his wishes; she was never one to disappoint him. This trip he was on could have given her the opportunity to get her feet wet, let her know what she was going to get herself into. Because whatever she thought was so wonderful about her life in Greenwich Village obviously wasn't showing itself tonight.

Or so she thought.

She found the bartender making his way over, saving her the trouble of flagging him down, and put her money down on the bar with every intention on making her exit. Until she realized someone had taken the seat next to her in an attempt to flag down the oblivious bartender making his way to the other side of the room.

"Could I get a…hello?"

She looked over at him. Oh, god, the new guy. Maybe she wouldn't leave just yet. Maybe she could serve as a friendly face for him. But when he locked his eyes with hers, she froze up, couldn't think of anything to say. To see him sitting right in front of her…god, he was stunning. She opened her mouth slightly, trying to force something out, but she couldn't speak. Couldn't move either, for that matter, so any chance at making a smooth exit was shot. She looked down at her lap, hoping that one of them would break the silence.

"How hard is it to get a drink in this place?"

Karen looked up at his eyes again and smiled. There was a certain glow to them that she couldn't see when he was so far away. And when he smiled, his light shined brighter. She wanted him to keep talking; she wanted to be able to speak so she could keep him here a little while longer. He leaned in closer, and as much as she wanted to believe it was because of some connection that had sparked, she knew that if he wasn't close, they wouldn't be able to hear what the other was saying.

"Can I ask you something without you getting offended?" he asked. She nodded. "What exactly is the appeal of this place?"

She laughed. Thank you, she thought, he's not one of them. "Truth?" she asked. "I have no idea. I'm only here because these cost next to nothing," she said with a smile, pointing to her drink. "I'm not one for this kind of scene."

"I guess that makes two of us. Guess I should have done a little research on the area before coming."

If she wasn't so set on making a change in her life, she would have let this continue, the small talk, walking around each other until one of them eventually leaves, never to see the other again. He could be the one to show her everything she's missing. He seemed lost, and if she had to be honest, she was nothing but a wandering soul trying to find her place; she never found it living with her mother, and was having the hardest time finding now, even with Stan by her side trying to guide her.

But she could see something in him that made her want to try, a feeling that she hadn't known in years. She stood up, took a hold of his hand, hoped that whatever powers were at work would give her a break and have him trust her.

"Come on," she said. "I know a place that's a little more peaceful."

* * *

She was the reason he stumbled into that bar. She had to be; out of all the places he passed, he walked into this one. She was the reason; he just didn't realize it until he walked in the room. Something about her made him want to stay. Maybe the way she was disconnected from the crowd, not really willing to conform, but instead choosing to be one of the few people sitting out. Maybe the way she smiled when he started to speak. But whatever it was, he knew that he couldn't leave her just yet.

He felt the hold she had on his hand. A week ago, he probably wouldn't be able to trust her that easily, but in the past couple of days, Will had changed. Leaving Grace behind for a place he didn't even know was not something he would normally do. But he passed normal miles ago. And something in her touch calmed him, made him start to trust her more and more, despite the fact that he didn't know a thing about her.

"Come on. I know a place that's a little more peaceful."

Will stood up, let this stranger lead him out of the bar, onto the streets, into another world. He didn't know where they were going, who she was, where she came from. But he did know one thing.

He was more certain that this was the right move than he had been with anything else in his life.


	3. September 18th, 1988: Late Evening

_September 18th, 1988_

The fluorescent glow of the café made her eyes shine in a way he thought they never could. She was right; this place was definitely more peaceful. Except for someone occupying a table here and there, they had the room to themselves, and honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. He couldn't get enough of her smile, her laugh and the way it filled the room. He could listen to it for hours. And he realized that he had never felt this way when he was with Grace, even before that night. She was different, this woman sitting across from him, and he realized that at that moment, he would do anything to keep her in his life.

But he knew that in two months, he would most likely never see her again.

She stopped for a moment, looked at him with a faint smile. She could feel the connection too, he knew it. It was in the way she looked at him, in her smile, in the way she wove her fingers together as if nervous, as if she wanted to get something off of her chest.

He placed his hand on hers. "What is it?" he asked.

When she felt his touch, she relaxed a little. Everything else seemed to fade into the background except for him, and it put her at peace. It made her trust him, even more than she thought she could ever trust Stan. And she didn't find it strange or wrong at all. No, this felt perfectly normal, like it would be crazy to do anything different. "It's nothing, I just…" She let out a little laugh and broke away from his stare as she fumbled for the words; even though he made her feel so comfortable, it still made her nervous to talk to him. "I was thinking that if you weren't doing anything tomorrow night…" she looked into his eyes, "maybe we could meet again. God, this is so crazy, I don't even know your name."

Something changed in her eyes, he could tell. A little more life crept inside her, made its home. And as much as it would kill him to say it, he knew he had to.

"I need to tell you something. I'm only here for two months, I just needed to get away from things for a little while and I ended up here. I would love to see you again, I just don't want us to think that we are going to be forever." That was harsh, he knew it as the words spilled out of his mouth and onto the table, and as soon as he stopped, he wanted to clean up the mess he made. "God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no, it's okay, really. Since we're being honest here…I'm in a relationship. Well, no, actually, I'm just going through the motions of a relationship. I don't really know him anymore. He left for some business thing, and I thought I could get out and change the way my life's going before he got back, but I know it probably won't happen. And the worst part is…I was really starting to like you."

Silence. What could he really say to her after that? Yes, I was starting to like you too, but we can't really do anything about it now, can we? If he tried to reply to her, he would surely make a bigger mess of things than he already had. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms, but it would only remind both of them of the things they could not have. She didn't pull her hand away, though, even after all of that. That had to be a good sign.

He had an idea. How she would react, he had no clue. She could smile and take him in, or she could laugh in his face and walk off. But he had to say it. The whole point of this time away was to start doing things he never thought he could do, that his mind had once told him were wrong or completely impulsive and idiotic. He had to say it.

"What if we went into this knowing it would be over in two months?"

She seemed intrigued. "What?"

"We both need a change. It's the reason I came down here, and the reason you took me by the hand and led me out of the bar tonight. I know you wouldn't have done it in any other circumstance. You and I both want to see what lives we could be leading so that when things go back to normal again, we can try to incorporate everything we've experienced into what we've already been given. I came here looking for away to feel happy and alive and right now, I can think of no better way to spend my time here than with you."

She was speechless for a moment, trying to process everything he just said. Would it be so crazy to take a chance on this? If she knew he would be gone soon, maybe she wouldn't get too attached. She could prepare herself for his departure so it wouldn't hit her so hard when he did leave. But she knew she would get attached; in a way, she already was.

"How exactly would we go about doing this? How are we going to make sure that we don't get attached to each other so that once these two months are up, we can't bear to leave each other? How are we going to make sure that we don't end up looking for each other in the days and months that follow? I can't necessarily disrupt the flow in my life right now, and I know you probably couldn't do it either."

He thought for a moment. "How long is your boyfriend away for?"

"Three months. Left two weeks ago."

"What about this: You and I together for two months. No names, no notes to each other. I'll give you the spare key and the phone number to my room, but only because I'll be gone soon. I can't know where you live, and I can't know your number, because if I know these things, I could try to find you again somewhere down the line so I can fold you in my arms. We can't give away anything like that. Nothing that would serve as evidence after the fact. If we have anything like that, there's more of a chance that we would hold on, that we wouldn't let go." He let his hand grace her cheek. "What do you say?"

She took a deep breath, stood up. Oh god, he knew this would happen. When did he lose her? Was it right away and she was just asking those questions to amuse him? Or was it when he said that they would be nameless lovers? Maybe it was for the best. He looked at her, staying in his seat, whole-heartedly expecting her to turn her back on him and walk out the door.

What surprised him was when she bent down to wrap her arms around him, slid seamlessly into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt her as she nodded against him. "Yes," she whispered. "I'd rather be with you for two months under any circumstance we set than walk out of here right now and never see you again. I couldn't stand myself if I did that." She looked at him and smiled, ran her fingers through his hair. "Granted, this is something I've never done before, never even thought of doing, but…you're the change that I've been needing. I just met you and I know that you are the one who will make me want to move."

She stood up, took him by the hand so he would do the same. They walked out of the café arm in arm when they noticed that it had started to rain while they were inside. She wasn't surprised that she never realized it; they took a seat next to the window, but the only thing she could keep her eyes on was him. They stopped outside the door as he fished in his pocket for the spare key to his room. When he found it, he took her hand, kissed her palm softly before placing the key there and closing her fingers around it. "The address is on the key chain," he explained. "Room 219. Come over whenever you want."

She nodded as he let go, and they both turned to leave. She knew that this was a crazy move. But that was part of its charm. She tried to hail a cab to try and avoid the rain while heading home. And when she opened the door of one that stopped for her, she heard his voice.

"Hey."

She turned around to face him, watched him as he picked up his pace until he brushed his lips against hers. To feel his arms around her, the sensation that came with her lips meeting his was all she needed. She didn't care that they were in the rain, that her cab was five seconds away from driving off. All she cared about was this moment, this kiss that was ripping through her like nothing she had ever experienced before. And when they pulled away, she watched him walk off until she couldn't see him anymore, wanting to make the most of their time together as she possibly could before sliding into the back seat of the cab and going home.

* * *

_Will_

What I don't know: Her name, where she lives, what her story is. What her childhood was like. If she would ever compare me to her first love, or this other man that she's seeing. If she really thought of cheating on him before we started talking, before I even came into the picture. If she would tell me the truth, although I hope she would. But I know that we could basically make up anything we wanted to about ourselves and sell it like it was the real thing. That's what is so risky about this; we have no idea what's real and what's not. But it's also what drew me to it in the first place.

What I do know: When she laughs, you can't help but smile. Her hands are soft, and when you take them in your own, she'll weave her fingers with your own so delicately, you'll think it's a dream. When we kissed, everything went away—my problems with Grace, my doubt and near-regret about packing my bags and leaving everything I know for a little while—and she was the only thing that mattered. Right now, she's still the only thing that matters.

I know that in two months, we are going to have to say goodbye.

What I didn't know was that this early on, I would feel so incapable of it.


	4. September 25th to September 26th, 1988

_September 25th, 1988_

"Karen? It's Stan. When you get this, could you call me back? I need to talk to you about something. You don't have to call me back right away, I just need to talk to you before I come home, okay?"

No "How are you." No "I miss you." No "I love you." Just asking a favor before hanging up. She really couldn't expect anything more—nothing in their history together would ever suggest that he would do anything of the sort—but on some level, she was hoping that he would surprise her, that a couple of weeks away from her would make him realize how much he needed her. But she knew that she was getting so far ahead of herself.

She hadn't checked the messages on her answering machine since yesterday, before going over to his hotel room. And when she came back, she didn't bother with it; she wanted him to be the last thing she thought about before she went to sleep. Why did he have to call now? She was just beginning to live the way she wanted. She didn't have to worry about when he would start pushing her to move in with him again, or who from his world she would have to try to impress next. She didn't have to transform into someone she knew she wasn't in order to satisfy anyone else for the first time in her life, and she felt alive because of it. She hadn't even thought of Stan once this week until he called.

And she knew why.

It was him, the one she would give her heart to in an instant if he asked, and she didn't know the first thing about him. Only that when he looked into her eyes that first night, she could see that they were full of hope, something she hadn't seen in herself in years. He was unknowingly showing her who she was, revealing a little more each day she spent resting in his arms or feeling him smile against her skin as he kissed her. It almost made her forget that this would be all over come November.

Almost. She tried to forget, tried to bury it in a deep corner of her mind so she wouldn't have to think about it so much, but every time she left his hotel room, it was there. Through the soft goodbyes they exchange every night, she is reminded that come November, they will have to do this for real. It's not going to be, "Good night, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll call you when I get home." She will have to let him go, knowing that she'll have no way of seeing him after that. No way of knowing how he's doing, if he misses her, if he regrets leaving her as much as she does letting him go.

No. Don't think about this now. Not when you can still hold him in your arms and call knowing that he will be there, she thought. Time is running out, and she can't spend it by being miserable about their future. Live in the moment. That's why she took the chance with him in the first place. She needed to live. But it wasn't going to happen with Stan on her mind. She needed to see him again; it was the only way she could ever forget everything that's bothering her and smile.

Karen went through the other messages on her machine, barely paying attention to what was being said. Friends saying something about getting together for a drink sometime this week, give them a call when she gets in. She didn't care about any of that; these two months were precious time, and she couldn't waste it by stepping out with anyone else. Maybe afterwards, once all is said and done and he's gone back home, wherever it is he calls home, she'll call one of them up; she'd need a drink to nurse her heart before Stan gets back, anyway. But the last message was the one that caught her attention. That voice was so familiar, and it took her a second to realize who it was. And once she did, she couldn't believe she didn't realize it earlier.

"Hey. It's me. You walked out the door a little bit ago. Thought I would catch you at home by now, but since I didn't, I just wanted to call to say I miss you. You can call me when you get this, or you can just wait to talk to me until you come over again. Either way, I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me."

Oh, his voice. So soft and soothing, it was as if he called last night knowing she would need something to calm her down. She replayed it once or twice, and hated to slide her finger to the next button to delete it. But it was their own rule, and she couldn't break it. Leave nothing that could serve as evidence after the fact. Especially something that Stan would be able to find later, causing her to shake up his seemingly stable and well-put together world.

She grabbed her coat and slipped it on, made sure his key was in her pocket. Locked the door behind her and made her way as quickly as she could to soothe the aching desire to just be near him once again.

He heard the key find its way into the lock, twist and turn so it could unlock the door, since it already so flawlessly unlocked his heart. It could only be her; he wondered how long it would take her to get his message, if she realized how exactly his voice was on her machine. He stood up, walked over to the door to wait as she opened up the door. And when she did, he pulled her immediately into his arms, brushing her hair out of her eyes and his lips against her delicate ones.

She smiled when they pulled away, looked into his eyes and said, "You didn't have to wait right at the door for me."

"I know," he replied. "But then it would have been five seconds less that I'd get to see you." He watched as her smile grew, and couldn't help but grace her cheek with a kiss.

"So, would you like to tell me how you were able to call me last night when you don't have my number?"

"You know there's this nifty little invention called the redial button on that phone over there? So I just pushed it out of curiosity last night, and wouldn't you know, your voice came on the other end telling me to leave a message at the tone." There it was, her laugh; he was waiting to hear that all day. "And since I have a bit of a habit of wanting to do what you ask, I just couldn't resist." If the rest of their two months together was spent stuck in this moment, he would be content, perfectly happy. "I'm just sorry that I bent the rules a bit. Did you delete it?"

"Reluctantly."

"Did you like my message?"

She pulled him in closer. "I loved your message."

To feel his fingers crawl down her spine, to feel his arms around her waist. To feel his kiss at the crown of her head as she rests it on his chest, to hear his heartbeat as it begins to serve as a soft lullaby. To watch as his breathing evens out, to know that when he closes his eyes, he will have her body in his arms and her soul in his mind. It was all she needed. Suddenly, Stan's message was forgotten, moved out of her mind as more appealing tenants began to take up residence. The thought of waking up next to him in the morning, how impulsive and insane this may look to any outsiders, but not caring about any of it. They wouldn't understand. How are you able to fit everything you want to fit into such a short amount of time? Even now, she wasn't quite sure, but she knew that she had to say and do everything she needed to before this becomes a distant memory.

In his arms, she felt a wave of calm drowning her doubt, her fears. And she let it take her as she fell asleep, clutching him as her life ring.

* * *

_September 26th, 1988_

_Karen_

I couldn't tell you how angelic and peaceful you look right now. You're still in too deep of a sleep to notice that I freed myself from your hold on me, something I couldn't do willingly, but I won't let go of you completely. I can't. I wove my fingers with yours, kissed them, laid back down as you got your rest. I don't want to wake you from your sleep. As long as I'm with you, I'm where I want to be.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we decided to keep this going, that what we have is too valuable just to let it go like that. I could eventually tell Stan the truth, what happened during his time away. And if Greenwich Village isn't someplace you'd like to call home, I could always run off with you, back to where you live. I know I could never do it with Stan, but there's a difference. Anywhere seems like home when I'm with you. It was never like that with him.

But if I ran off with you, we could have this all the time. This moment, every moment we've shared together this week. The moments we'll share in the few weeks to come. We would never have to worry about saying goodbye to each other for one final time before we're out of each other's lives completely. We could learn each other's name.

But I keep thinking that if we did this, on some level the spark would start to fade. The anonymity of it all, the way we care for each other without knowing anything about each other, that's what attracted us to the idea in the first place. We both know that. But I can't help wondering if maybe, by some twist of fate, it wouldn't, and we were meant to last, not just for two months, but for good. Do you ever think about this?

Would you ever tell me if you did? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't; I don't think I could bring myself to say this out loud, for fear that it would ruin what we have right now. If we both kept thinking about the future, there would be no way we could enjoy the present.

I've wanted to say since that first night in the café, when I was in your arms, before the kiss in the rain. And I've been trying to figure out if it's true, or if it is only because you have shown me things that Stan never could. Either way, I know that if I say it to your face, it becomes real, and it could complicate things. But I hope you know.

I'm falling in love with you.


	5. October 4th, 1988

_October 4th, 1988_

"Tell me something about yourself."

She looked at him against the moonlight, lying on her back, laughed a little as he smiled. She never thought that he was serious when he asked her that. Usually, he said it in jest; she always thought that their relationship was built on the basis that they would go in knowing nothing about each other, and leave the same way so that there are no attachments. It never crossed her mind that one day he would actually mean it.

He pulled her in closer on the bed, leaving the half-empty cartons of Chinese food on the dressers. The night spent in his hotel room, they had dimmed the lights, lit a couple of candles she had brought with her and watched as the fuel to the flame dwindled until there was nothing left. Now, in the deep blue of the night, she succumbed to his wish and rested in the curve of his arm, silent as he threaded her hair between his fingertips, twirling it around his index finger so delicately. She could see it out of the corner of her eye, and for a moment was somewhat hypnotized by the way his finger drew small circles in the air. She turned on her side to face him, kissed him gently.

"I thought we weren't supposed to know anything about each other. Isn't that how it works? I don't give you my name, and in return I get to see you as much as I want until you leave," she said with a smile.

"Well, technically, we're not supposed to tell each other anything we could use as a tool to track each other down in the future. So as long as I have no idea where you'll be after I leave, we're fine." He ran his fingers through her hair, watched her as her smile grew just for him. God, he loved it knowing that every time she smiled, every time she laughed, every time she blushed or her eyes shined, it was only for him. For a moment, he wondered how long it would take him to forget these things after he left. Right now, seeing her next to him, being able to touch her, having her be a reality, he couldn't imagine those future memories ever fading. But he wasn't an idiot. Even now, he was beginning to forget the way Grace sounded. But he couldn't think of that now. "So, tell me something about yourself," he said again.

"Well, what do you want to know, honey?"

He thought for a moment before coming up with, "How did you end up in Greenwich Village?"

She hesitated for a moment, her mouth opening up, ready to speak, but nothing was coming out. Watching her, he realized that he must have hit a nerve. It was such a simple, innocent question, he thought, never realizing how loaded of a question it could be. He started fumbling for words, trying to make it better. "Oh, god, I didn't mean to upset you or anything, you don't have to…"

"I had to get away from her."

They let the silence control the room for a moment. Her answer was so unexpected. He only thought it would be something like, "I always liked the area," some run-of-the-mill response like that. And he wasn't sure what to say next; if he asked another question, how would she take it? He never wanted her to hurt, and he wasn't about to start. But she was expecting a response from him, something, anything.

"Her?"

"My mother." She didn't look at him, just sat up, looked down at her hands, as if she was ashamed of it all. "We never stayed in one place for too long, after my dad died. She had a habit of scamming people, and that's putting it politely. God, it was like something you'd see in a bad movie. She'd swindle money from anyone she could, and once people started becoming suspicious, we'd have to pack up and find a different city, start the cycle all over again. When I was sixteen, I had enough. Packed my bags, left a little note-nothing much, just saying that I was done, I wasn't going to put up with it anymore, so I left. And I tried to find a place we didn't end up in before. And after trying to make a home in a couple cities, I ended up here. It's the first place that felt even remotely like home since that first move."

He put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't imagine…"

"It's okay, I'm over it. I haven't seen her in years, I'm feeling better about it." She looked into his eyes and gave him a half-smile. "I've never told anybody that before."

"So, why did you tell me?"

"Because you asked."

"You could have lied."

She reconsidered her answer. "Because I trust you. I could never tell him. He would have taken it too lightly or thought that I made it up. But I knew you would never do that. It's funny; I've known him for years, shared as much of my life with him as I'm willing to, and I trust you more than I do him. I know that must sound insane, but there it is."

The way the moonlight reflected off of her hazel eyes, the way her fingers walked the length of his shoulder and crawled down his arm. It made him realize how much he needed her. It made him wonder where he would have been now if she hadn't decided upon Greenwich Village, if he didn't meet her by chance at a bar neither of them would have chosen because of the atmosphere. He didn't want to think about it; all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

She lay back down with him as he folded her into his chest, kissed him as she smiled. "Your turn," she said as they pulled away. "Tell me something."

"You want me to tell you something?" He took her hand, kissed her palm like he did the first night they spent together in the café. "When the moonlight comes in and highlights your face like that, it really brings out the tiny flecks of green in your eyes." She laughed, but he could tell she wasn't laughing in his face. She had different types of laughter, and he wondered if this other man she was with even noticed. This laugh was humble, a sort of thank-you for a compliment like this.

"No, I mean…why did you come here? To Greenwich Village."

"I was stuck. I broke my best friend's heart, and even though it was three years ago, part of her still won't let it go. I thought maybe some time apart would give us time to think, get everything together before we try to move on. And something was telling me to come here."

The look in her eyes changed a bit. She was more sympathetic, maybe a little saddened by what he just said, and as soon as he saw a tear roll down her cheek he hated to be the one to do that to her. She had fully realized what she had done, putting all of her trust into this man she barely knew. Too much for her to take, knowing that she would trust a man she had only known for a few weeks over someone that has been in her life for years. He pulled her into his arms, held her a little closer, a little tighter, to let her know that he was still there. He plunged his fingers into her hair, pressed his lips against hers. If he could kiss away her pain, maybe he could coax her smile to make another appearance.

She kissed his neck as her fingers undid the buttons on his shirt one by one. But when she looked back up at him, he was frozen, staring at her like he wanted to say something. She never meant to make him uncomfortable, it was the last thing she wanted to do. Keeping her gaze on him, she loosened her hold on him and took a breath.

"Am I going to fast?" she whispered.

"No, that's not it." Hesitation. For days, he had been wondering whether he should say it, what it would do to them, how she would take it if she knew he was falling for her. But he had to say it, he needed to let her know, even if she didn't feel the same way. "I just need you to know, I…"

"Shhhh…" She put a finger to his lips, pulled him closer, kissed his cheek softly before whispering into his ear.

"I would catch you if I wasn't falling too."

* * *

_Karen_

Can we really leave now? I wasn't always completely sure I could do it in the first place, but now that we've let this out, I have no idea what I'm going to do without you, without these nights together. Because I know that when Stan comes back and takes me in his arms, it will be you on my mind instead of him. And if he ever finds that out and leaves me, I will have nothing left. You will already be gone, and I know that if I stay in Greenwich Village, Stan will find out about us, what we had. I'll let something slip about how a certain place reminds me of you, and he will begin interrogation.

I can't think of this now. You're with me here, and that's all that matters.

Just hold me closer so everything else will fade away.

* * *

_Will_

You feel it too. I just needed to know if you did, but you feel it too. At one point, I actually doubted you; I thought that you were just going through the motions to satisfy me, that you really didn't feel this way and when I had to go back home, it would be easy for you to say goodbye. I can't believe I ever thought of you in that light. Maybe I was just looking for a way to become mad at you, so it would be easier to leave you. Until I realized. A part of you will be with me forever.

So let's not think of the future, just think of the here and now. The present is all we have.


	6. October 26th, 1988

_October 26th, 1988_

"Karen? Are you there? Come on, pick up, it's Stan. I really need to talk to you, have you gotten my messages? Where are you? Please either pick up the phone or call me, it's really important."

He wouldn't stop calling. She had been dodging his calls for weeks now, hoping to avoid what he would so certainly do: make her come back to reality, make her see that this is how it will be once again in less than a month. She never told him about Stan's calls when she was within his reach; there was no reason to bring him down with her, and although he had always said that she can trust him with everything, she knew that if she brought it up, his demeanor would change. But Stan would not stop. And she realized that if she wanted to forget about him, she would have to dial his number, hear him out, and feel him slowly fade away as she hangs up the phone.

Her fingers walked across the numbers, making stops at the ones that would connect her to him. She closed her eyes and counted the number of times it rang before he picked up. He wouldn't let the fourth one sing its full song before she heard his voice.

"Hello?"

"What do you want from me?" God, she hadn't meant for that to sound cruel. He had no idea what was going on. Yes, he kept calling, but he had no idea why she was hesitant to pick up the phone and speak to him. On some level, she held him responsible for the way her life was going and for the way she was spending her time now, but there was really no reason to start on him like that. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to make things better. "These last few weeks have been…" How was she supposed to finish that sentence? These last few weeks have been the best of my life, because he truly feels for me in a way you never could? But it doesn't matter anyway, because soon he will be gone and you and I can continue like nothing ever happened between him and me? She tried again. "These last few weeks have been…interesting." Seemed neutral enough.

"I know what you mean," Stan replied. "Things have been rather hectic over here and…well, I didn't try to get a hold of you to tell you any of that. Karen I wanted to talk about us. Where we're going, what's going to be happening once I get back to New York. And I need to ask you something."

"Stanley, you know you can ask me anything."

"Well, it's not really asking you something. I need you to be able to do something for me."

"Stan, what is it? I'm sure it can't be that bad, just tell me."

* * *

Damn this lock. The key wasn't fitting in the hole when she was able to find it through the massive blur of an atmosphere her tears made of the world around her. Something had to be jammed in the lock; she could get in any other time, why won't the key fit? She pulled on the handle, gathering all the strength she had to open the door before she gave up, slamming her fists on the door and resting her head against it in an attempt to catch her breath from her cries. When she felt the flat surface begin to slip away from her, she stumbled a bit, looked up to find his blurred shape in the doorway.

He pulled her as close as he could as she buried her face in his chest so that her tears would soak through to his heart. He led her to the bed and sat her down, took her face in his hands and looked at her. The shine in her eyes was gone completely; it was as if he was looking into the soul of another person, someone he did not spend every minute of the last five weeks with. This person looked completely shattered, and as hard as he may try, he wasn't so sure if he would be able to put the pieces back together.

He brushed the hair matted to her cheek from her tears from her face, kissed the steady stream. The taste stung him, not knowing what is hurting her and not being able to do anything about it. "Look at me," he said, soothing, hoping her breath would even out. He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes again. "What's wrong?"

The way she averted her eyes, he didn't know whether to feel hurt that she wasn't letting him in like she always did, or love the fact that she didn't want him to hurt like she was, if, in fact, that was what she was doing. She didn't speak; perhaps she couldn't. Perhaps she didn't want to. Whatever it was, it prevented the words from escaping. He could see her lips trying so hard to form them, the little "O" that took shape, but when she realized that there was nothing, it disappeared as quickly as it came. And all she could do was shake her head.

"Oh, sweetie," he whispered as he folded her into his arms, stroking her hair. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

He hoped she believed it.

* * *

As the sun set and the stars came out to play, her breathing finally evened out as she drifted off to sleep. The emotional baggage of whatever it was she was carrying had to have been heavy for her; it would tire anybody. He loved her for trying to brave this one on her own, but he wanted her to be able to trust him. She did for everything else, it seemed. He stayed on the bed with her until he knew sleep had taken her, then gently got up, headed for the phone to order something for them to eat; she had to be hungry. He was about to dial the numbers when he heard her voice, soft, heavy with sleep.

"He gave me an ultimatum."

He turned his head to see her tired eyes open slightly, her head resting on a pillow as she lifted her hand and gave him a half-hearted wave. God, even when she was on the brink of destruction, she was gorgeous. He walked over to her and sat down on her side of the bed, taking her hand in his, offering her a smile. "I thought you were still sleeping, I was just about to order some dinner for us."

"He gave me an ultimatum," she said again.

She was letting him in, finally. He started weaving his fingers with hers as he asked, "What happened?"

"He wouldn't stop calling me. I never wanted to answer him, but I thought if I did this time, he would go away, but he's here now, even when you take me in your arms. I never should have picked up the phone, I don't think I can do it."

"Do what? Sweetie," he said, gracing her cheek with his free hand, "talk to me. What did he say?"

"He said that we were stuck, and the only way that we were ever going to start moving again is that when he came home, I would move in with him. And we got into the same fight we always do when he brings it up: how I could never leave, I finally found a place that I can call home and I don't think I could give that up. And then he said how he'll never feel like we're a legitimate couple until we share a home together and Greenwich Village is not his scene. But it was different this time. It was more heated, more intense, almost like we were screaming at each other. We almost were. And just as I was about to speak, he told me that if I didn't move in with him when he came back, he would end things between us and move on."

Silence for a moment. They were both trying to process everything she just said. He kissed the hand he was holding, took a breath. "What did you say to him?"

"I said I would think about it, call him with my answer before he left. I didn't know what else to do. Honey, I'm not myself when I'm with him. You're the only one who's ever seen me for who I am. And I like it. If I move in with him, I'm stuck in his world, and I can't stand his world. It'll do nothing but start off my slow demise."

"Then why did you say you'd think about it, why didn't you just turn him down right then?"

"If I did that, I would lose him and I'd lose you. I can't have everything taken away from me. It's not fair that you have to leave me. He's been in my life for years, he's all I've known for so long, and if he's gone too, I know I wouldn't be able to take it. After years of trying to find that one constant in my life, I can't let this one go."

He didn't know what to say to that. He understood it completely, even though they both didn't want to. And he did the only thing he knew he could do at that moment. He lay on the other side of the bed, moved in close to her, rested his head on her chest. And they lay there in silence as she stroked his hair, trying to forget everything.

* * *

_Will_

If I could take you with me come November, I would, and you know that. To be able to feel the weight of you on my chest every day, the light your eyes shine on my face, the touch of your hand on my cheek; I would need nothing more. If I could bring you out of the hell you seem to be burning in because of him, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I've got so many problems of my own, it wouldn't be fair to bring you into all of it. I wish I knew a way to make everything better, but I don't think I am able to make this one okay.

God, I'm so sorry.


	7. November 17th to November 18th, 1988

_Karen_

I still remember the message you left on my answering machine at the end of that first week. Sure, most of what you said had faded with time, but your last words, the last thing I heard before it was erased, have stayed with me. You say it every night after you walk me outside and kiss me. I've never tired of it, and truth be told, when you leave, I will miss it. I'll miss the way you whisper it into my ear, the way your lips form the words. Those sweet words.

I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me.

Those small things, saying that you're counting the minutes and holding my hand to let me know you're still there, are what make you so different from anyone else I've crossed paths with. You want to make sure that I know that you're thinking of me, that you care for me. Everything that Stan never did. I don't know if he just assumes that I know that and I don't need constant reassurance, or if he thinks it's not even worth the effort. But you care. You have since you walked into the bar that first night, since you let me lead you into this.

I don't really know how I'm going to handle myself once you're gone. I don't know if it's going to be better to keep the memories I have of you close, so that I can conjure an image of you just like that, or if it's best to forget everything, avoid the places that make me think of you, the hotel, the café, the bar. I try not to think about it until I am faced with it; I just want to live in the moment, with you.

I've been hopeful, thinking that one day in the future, you and I will meet again. Maybe you'll come back to Greenwich Village, maybe I'll happen to end up where you live. Maybe we'll have a chance encounter in some place we wouldn't even dream that we'd find each other. Maybe I'm jumping too far ahead of myself. Maybe it won't happen at all.

But until I know for sure, I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me.

* * *

_November 17th, 1988_

The last night. He had suggested they go out, have a nice dinner together before going back to the hotel room. But she didn't want anyone from the outside intruding on their last moments together, and the more he thought about it, he realized he didn't want it either. She was in his arms in silence as they looked out over the balcony, watching the people below get on with their lives together, knowing that theirs would end in a matter of hours. And through the waves of her hair in the wind, he could have sworn he saw a tear run down her cheek.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked so softly, it was almost a whisper, her gaze still on the streets below, following traffic and lovers.

He gazed into the electric neon glow of his surroundings. "I wish I knew." He wished he could say more, but he never really gave much thought to what he would be doing after everything was said and done. All he ever focused on was her, always in his line of vision, even in his dreams. And now that he would be leaving in the morning, he had no idea where to go from here. Yes, he'll have Grace, but he knew that her spirit would still live on in his heart and mind, at least for awhile before it begins to slowly fade.

"Will you still think of me?" she asked.

He kissed her temple, let his lips linger against her skin for a moment. "Of course I will. You'll still be with me when I go back home. I can't lie and say that when I go back to my normal life, everything we've shared and everything we've been will be forgotten. I know we said that once we go our separate ways, we'll be able to move on, but that won't be the case for me, and I don't think it will be for you."

She looked at him, tears welling in her soft hazel eyes, before she wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to let go. "I don't want you to leave me," she whispered.

He was never so certain that he should leave. He'd been more himself than he ever had been, and he knew that she was the reason for it. "Spend the night with me," he said. Maybe if her hold on him was tight enough through the night, he wouldn't be able to leave, and they would have more time together. He felt her nod her head against his chest. "I'd bet you everything I have that we'll run into each other again someday. Maybe not in the near future, but it will happen. You were meant to be in my life. It'll only be a matter of time."

She looked into his eyes as her tears began to make their way down her cheek, took a deep breath before she spoke.

"I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me."

* * *

_November 18th, 1988_

_I am so sorry. It was selfish of me to leave without saying goodbye. But I knew if I looked into your eyes, knowing I had to get the words out, I wouldn't be able to. I left because I had to, not because I wanted to. You know I never wanted to, you could always see how much it would kill me to have to leave you. But it had to be done, as much as I'm regretting it now. This change that I so thoughtlessly forced upon the both of us will leave such an impact on our hearts. But I'll be waiting until I will see you again, until I truly see you. I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me._

For two months, he had regarded the sunrise as shining light on one more day he had with her. And now, as the early morning sun shone on his packed suitcase, he wished that it would go away, that the sun would stay down so he could have just a few more minutes with her. He woke up to find her hold on him weakened from her sleep, and just looked at her for a little while, soaking up her beauty, trying to get as much of her as he could so he could remember her forever. And without waking her, he stood up, got dressed and sat down to write her the note, barely able to put the pen to the paper. When he wrote his last word to her, he walked over to her, kissed her gently on the forehead; hopefully she would think it was a dream. He was about to place the note on the nightstand for her to find when she woke up. Until he realized the rules they had set.

Leave nothing behind that can serve as evidence after the fact.

Not knowing what else to do with it, he stuffed it in the pocket of his coat; he'd figure out what to do with it once he got home. He grabbed his suitcase, opened the door and took one last look at her before leaving the room and checking out of the hotel.

And as his cab drove him back to Manhattan, he held his head in his hands as his tears fell onto his lap.

* * *

She couldn't feel him beside her when she woke up. He wasn't there when she turned to his side of the bed. "Honey?" she called out, hoping he would appear from the bathroom door, or walk back in from the balcony. She got out of bed, paced around the room, calling out for him. "Honey, where are you?" Where the hell is he? He wasn't gone, he couldn't be; she didn't get to see him one last time before he walked out the door. But as she looked around the place, and ended up in the spot where she started, she finally noticed one major difference.

His suitcase was gone.

She stumbled back to the bed, hit it hard as her tears escaped her. When she pictured this moment, she never realized how hard it would be right away. Once she recaptured her breath, calmed down and dried her eyes, she picked up the phone and dialed those familiar numbers, hearing his voice on the third ring.

"Stan, it's me. Yeah, I have thought about it, and I made a decision. I'll start packing now, so we can begin moving when you get back. Yes, I'm sure. I know. I didn't like the way we ended things the last time we talked, either. It'll definitely be a change. But I can't lose you right now."

* * *

She looked the same as she did the last night he saw her. Those same red locks, soft eyes that he could only associate with Grace. Will had dropped his bag off at his home before making his way to her door, and when she opened it, a look of shock overpowered her. "Will," she managed to get out. Slowly, she let a smile creep onto her face as she wrapped her arms around him. "God, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he replied. He didn't know how much of it was true, but he knew that if he didn't say it back to her, she would know something was up. He looked into her eyes; it just wasn't the same. He was expecting her delicate hazel eyes to be looking back at him, and to see Grace's made the fact that he left her real.

"Let me take your coat, I'll put it in the other room," she said as he handed it to her and sat down. Grace walked into her bedroom, lay his coat on her bed as a piece of paper fell out of its pocket. She picked it up to have a look. It was definitely Will's handwriting; she would recognize it anywhere. No names, just a message he obviously wasn't sure he should give to whoever it was meant for. She smoothed it out, read the first couple of sentences out loud.

"I am so sorry. It was selfish of me to leave without saying goodbye…"

His gaze met her smile as she walked back into the room. Grace sat down on the couch next to him when he realized that she had his note in her hand. She hugged him and said, "It's okay. You don't need to be sorry for anything, I just worried about where you were."

She believed the note was for her.

And he let her.


	8. September 17th, 1998: Ten Years Later

**NOTE: Lyrics to Patty Griffin's "You'll Remember" are included in italics in this chapter.**

_September 17th, 1998: Ten Years Later_

_Maybe one day along the way  
You'll remember me on this island  
Smiling at you how I used to  
Maybe one day, you'll remember_

"What is all this?"

Grace turned at the sound of his voice, smiled when Will came closer and sat down beside her. She had a box at her feet, things he hadn't seen in at least ten years scattered out across the coffee table. "Feeling the need to reminisce, I see?" he asked as he picked up some old knick-knack they bought for a reason that was now beyond him.

"Can you believe this?" she replied with a smile. "I found this box in my closet with all this stuff from college, some of it's from a bit after that. God, I can't even remember where I got half this stuff, I'm wondering if I shouldn't just throw it out."

"Well, you kept it for a reason," Will said, picking the box up off the floor and sifting through it. "We just don't know what the reason is." Half the stuff was junk, why did she keep this? His fingers walked the bottom of the box until he came across a small sheet of paper, a bit yellowed from the years, wrinkled. "What's this?" he asked her as he picked it up to show her.

Grace took the paper from his hand, looked at what was written on it. "Oh my god, I completely forgot about this. Remember when you took off for two months back in…was it '88? In the fall, I think, but you didn't tell me where you were going. Anyway, this is the note you wrote me when you came back."

Slowly it was beginning to come back to him. He remembered the night before he left, the silent night with Grace staring out the window, nursing a cup of coffee. He remembered going back to his place after he dropped her off, calling hotels in Greenwich Village before he found one that had a room available. "I never wrote you a note," he said. "I mean, I did before I left, but I never wrote one for you when I came back."

"Yes you did," she insisted. She handed it back to him. "Here, just read it. It's your handwriting. It fell out of your coat pocket when you gave it to me the night you visited me."

"Let me see this," he said. Will looked at the note, started to read it aloud. "I am so sorry. It was selfish of me to leave without saying goodbye…oh my god." That last night, the balcony, watching her fall asleep, waking up with the sunrise. Writing the note to her, the unnamed lover. Not being able to give her the piece of paper. Kissing her before he left. Her.

"Is everything okay?" Grace asked.

He looked at her for a moment. "I'm fine, I just…" he fumbled to find the right words. "I just need to get some air." With the note still in his hand, Will stood up and walked out the door.

* * *

_Will_

I thought of you for the longest time after I left. I couldn't go anywhere, do anything, without wondering what you were doing at that moment. At one point, when Grace was upstate visiting her family, I even went back to Greenwich Village, hoping that maybe I would run into you and you would somehow forgive me for disappearing like that. And we would do things differently this time; we would learn everything we wanted to know about each other, I could take you in my arms and let everything else fade away. It could be perfect.

After awhile, I started forgetting things about you. With time, I forgot your touch, how delicate your features were. But I never forgot your voice. Even as everything faded, I never forgot your voice, your twist on the way you say the words you gave me. Every once in awhile, it will come out of hiding and haunt my dreams, my thoughts. No, haunt wouldn't be the word for it. Your voice has a hold on me the way your arms used to on those nights alone, out on the balcony, enjoying the city life and each other's company.

At times, I wonder if what we had was just young love. Maybe we didn't really know what we were doing, and if I had stayed, we wouldn't know what to do with each other once the novelty of our situation had worn off. But as the days went by, I realized that I was only trying to sell that to myself so I wouldn't miss you as much. So I tried to stop thinking about you altogether, and wait for someone else to get to my heart the way that you had. And it almost worked. Almost. I know now that no matter how much I try to stop, no matter how long I forget, you will always come back to me in one form or another. You are always with me.

What did you do after I left? Did you go back to him? I've never stopped wondering about that. I'd like to believe that you didn't sacrifice for him, but when you came to me that night in tears, saying that once you lost me, you would lose everything if he left, I can't shake the feeling that you're with him now. Which is why, when I finally came to terms with that, I stopped looking for you in Greenwich Village. I stopped walking into the bar where we first met, grabbing one drink just to make sure that you weren't going to come in during that time. I stopped making my way to the café you led me to, where we shared our first kiss outside the doors. God, I was so willing to trust you, and I know that if we did it over again, I wouldn't have changed a thing. I stopped walking by the hotel I stayed at. For some reason, I had convinced myself that you were missing me as much as I was you, and you would be around the hotel, reminiscing.

But I realized that after the way I left you, you probably weren't missing me as much as I was missing you, if at all. And I never blamed you. I didn't even say goodbye, and you probably didn't even feel the kiss on your forehead. Or if you did, you thought it was part of a dream. I took the easy way out, and I've been regretting it ever since. I just knew that if I saw the look in your eyes as I said my last words to you, I would never be able to get that image out of my head, and I knew I would never be able to live with myself for knowing that I caused so much of your pain back then.

At least now, doing what I did back then, I can delude myself into thinking that you weren't harmed by my unseen exit. It's how I've gotten by the past ten years.

I still haven't lost hope, though, that you and I will meet again. At least I've kept one promise to you.

I'm still counting the minutes until you come back to me.

* * *

_Karen_

You would hate me now. I did everything you thought I couldn't, and when no one was looking, I killed the person I was with you and buried her deep, so no one would ever find her. Those two weeks I had alone, before Stan came home, I spent the time packing and looking for you. My mind was trying to trick me, telling me that you weren't really gone, you wouldn't leave me without saying goodbye first, so you had to be around here somewhere. But once Stan came home and started helping me move, I had to stop lying to myself.

And that's when he put the ring on my finger. We've been on the brink of divorce for years now, and although we keep telling ourselves that we're fine, we both know that it will be over soon. I've even picked up a job just to reduce our time together; with his wealth, we're living more than comfortably. It's only a matter of time. I only wish that once it ends, I'd be able to run into your arms once again.

The only things I remember about you now are your eyes and your smile. They're different than any I've ever seen. And they're constantly with me. At least I have this to keep me company, to remind me of you when everything else has failed. I miss you. I have since I woke up in your room to find that you left. I was never mad at you for that, and I'm not now. Because if I'm honest, if I was the one to wake up first that morning, I would have done the same thing.

I've kept up some sort of false hope that one day I'll find you on the streets of New York, and we'll find each other in the sea of strangers. And we'll run to each other and make sure that from this moment on, we will never leave each other again.

It may not be much, and I may be deluding myself, but it's all I have.


	9. September 18th, 1998 and March 1999

**NOTE: Lyrics to "You'll Remember" by Patty Griffin are in italics in this chapter.**

_September 18th, 1998_

_And it won't be sad to think of all we had  
All unhappy ends will be behind us then  
Maybe one day along the way  
You'll think of me, and you'll be smiling_

He didn't know what to do with himself last night. After finding the note, he knew he couldn't stay in the room with Grace still believing that those words were in fact for her. And when he couldn't find a place to go, he wandered the streets of Manhattan, hand in pocket gracing the note he just couldn't let go of, memories coming back. He was beginning to remember what she looked like, those hazel eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled. And it made everything that much harder.

It started to rain. He stood on the corner of the street for a moment, letting everyone pass by him, took in the feel of the drops on his skin. The rain always made him think of her, that night at the café where they shared their first kiss. For the longest time he believed that every time it rained, it meant she was thinking of him. But after ten years apart, he was almost certain that she had completely forgotten about him, because of time or resentment.

When he came home, Grace was fast asleep. He wasn't so sure if he would have been able to face her anyway. There was no doubt in his mind that she would want an explanation for his untimely departure, and he didn't think he would be able to tell her the real story behind the note. Those two months were only meant for him and the one he left behind. They belonged to them and only them. He wasn't ready to let anyone else into their world. Not yet.

In the morning, he woke up to find Grace already left for work. He hated the way he left things last night, just leaving without giving her a reason. Just like he did ten years ago. He always swore that he would never do that to her again, and couldn't believe that he made himself out to be a liar. There was no telling how Grace was thinking of him right now. He hadn't talked to her since last night. He wouldn't really blame her if she was angry at him.

He would visit her on his lunch break, maybe take her out for a bite to eat. Apologize for not talking to her the rest of the night. He already lost one woman he cared about.

He wasn't about to lose Grace too.

* * *

_Maybe one day, maybe one day…  
Maybe one day, you'll remember_

She had no idea what she was doing here, working as an assistant in Grace Adler Designs. Half the time, she didn't even do anything; this was just an escape from the monotony of her life with Stan, getting paid to avoid her husband, her problems. And in some way, this was a sort of sanctuary. Even though she and Grace did have their problems, in the short time that Karen was employed, they have formed some sort of bond that made Karen want to come here every day.

It was starting to rain again; she loved the rain. The drops against concrete, against her cheek, made her think of a time where she was happy, where she could live freely. It made her think of a time where she didn't have to transform herself into what everyone else wanted to see. It made her think of him, the café, her home. The feeling she got when he brushed his fingers through her hair, when she felt his heartbeat as she was beginning to fall asleep. She wondered if he ever thought of her when it rained, if he ever thought of her at all.

God, she missed him.

Lost in her thoughts of him, she didn't even hear someone walk into the office. "Is Grace here?" she heard him ask as she jumped back into reality. His back was turned towards her, standing at Grace's desk and flipping through her sketchbook. She almost wanted to walk over to him, grab his attention so he would turn to face her so she could see who this man was. Grace had mentioned her friend Will…oh god, his last name escaped her, but this had to be him. She knew of no appointments that Grace had with clients, and she never mentioned any other man. Well, except for that boyfriend of hers, Danny. But she had seen pictures of him, and Karen knew that this wasn't him.

"No, honey, you just missed her, but she'll be back in a minute. You must be Will."

He froze. No, it couldn't be her. This woman just happened to put the same twist on words as she did, the same soft, delicate delivery of her sentences. He was almost incapable of speech. But he had to say something. Come on, Will, this had to just be a coincidence. You haven't found this woman in ten years, what makes you think you found her now? He never did get a good look at her, just walked right past her to Grace's area.

Will turned around to face her as she turned her focus back to the magazine in her hands. Watched for a second as her finger traced the edge of the page.

"Oh, my god…"

She looked up at him, locked her eyes with his. God, they were her eyes. He would recognize them anywhere, even after a ten year period. It was her. It was the moment he had been waiting for since he left her in the hotel room that morning, and she probably didn't even remember him.

But she did.

Those eyes, that smile. They didn't belong to anyone else but him. He hadn't changed a bit in ten years. She had to say something to him, anything to break the silence. "Um…" she started, fumbling for the right words. "You can…you can wait for her if you want. She just went around the corner."

"Thanks," he replied. He took a step closer to her, another. It seemed like an eternity before he reached her desk. She didn't take his eyes off of him the entire time. He had to do this; he knew that if he didn't, he would regret it. Reaching in his pocket, he found the note and placed it on her desk. "This is for you," he said. "It's a little weathered, but I would really like you to read it."

She picked the note up from her desk, read it to herself under her breath. He smiled when he heard her whisper, "I'll be counting the minutes until you come back to me." A tear started to roll down her cheek. "Oh my god," she let out softly, looking up at him. "It really is you."

He made his way over to her side of the desk, knelt down to her level, brushed his lips against hers. Oh, god, to feel her in his arms again. It was almost too much to take. "I haven't stopped thinking about you," he said as they pulled away. "I even went back to Greenwich Village a few times to see if I could find you, but I never could. I hated myself for the way I left you."

"No, don't. It's not your fault. Besides, I'm not the same person anymore. I moved in with him, it completely changed me for the worse."

He looked into her eyes, brushed her hair away from her face. "You can believe that, but I can see it in your eyes. You're still the same person I fell for."

She laughed, that beautiful sound filling the room like it used to. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," she started. "My name is Karen Walker, although I still feel like Karen Delaney sometimes."

"You looked like a Karen," he said before she could finish, smiling.

"My favorite color is blue. My first kiss was behind the jungle gym during recess in fifth grade. I don't remember his name, but I started giggling and he ran off. My father died when I was seven, which resulted in my mother and I moving from town to town. Ten years ago, I found my true love, but he was only there for two months before he had to go. I spent the years after that trying to find him."

She took him in her arms. "Today, I finally did."

* * *

_March 1999_

_Will_

Six months ago, if someone told me I would be in your arms once again, I would have laughed in their face and called them a liar. But here I am, with you, lying on my couch as you move in closer, rest your head on my chest. God, Karen, I couldn't even begin to tell you how much I love you. But I know that you know. You could always see right through me. I've always loved that about you.

I knew one day you would come back to me. I had doubted myself for so long, but I never gave up hope. I knew one day you would be back in my arms, and we would pick up where we left off all those years ago. I never stopped believing.

I never stopped counting the minutes until you came back to me.

* * *

_Karen_

Oh, what you do to me. You made me realize that I hadn't killed the person I was with you. I just forced her into hiding, waiting for the right moment to bring her out again. And when you came through the office door, I knew that time had come.

I don't know if Stan understood why I gave him his ring back after all this time, but he knew that it would happen sooner or later. And when I packed the few things I cared about and moved in with you, I knew that it was the right decision. Not that I had ever doubted it. You've been the one thing that has kept me going these past years. The undying hope that one day I would see you again. I knew one day you would come back to me, even when it seemed that all hope was lost.

I want to stay like this forever. Keep me in your arms, Will. God, I love saying your name. Never let me go.

I know you never will.


End file.
